The question is
by Spyder1070
Summary: 2D makes the mistake, of asking Muds a question. Muds takes the opportunity, to answer. Just not in the way 2D had hoped. ONE SHOT.


Murdoc is sitting in the kitchen at the table, quietly jotting down song ideas in his notebook. He looks up occasionally and stares out the window, chewing on the end of the pen and murmuring to himself, then struck by another idea, hunches back over the page and starts writing, furiously. 2-D walks in and looks over at the bassist, in a partially zoned out state. He stands there a moment, slack jawed, when suddenly, he is struck in the head by a can of soft-drink. It bounces off and ricochets around, under the table, before being stopped by Murdocs foot. The bassist smiles, but doesn't look up from his writing, as 2-D rubs the perfectly circular bruise, that is steadily growing in the middle of his forehead.

"Ow! Wha' did I do?" The young man asks, checking his hand for blood, then returning it to rub the spot. He looks hard at the old man, who pauses a moment, then looks up at him. A tired, but strangely satisfied grin, settling on the old mans face.

"Oh nuthin'. I was just tryin to throw it in the rubbish and yer head got in the way. Heh, heh." he responds and closes his notebook. He places his elbows on the table, rests his chin on the palms of his hands, then tries to look as innocently as he can, at the confused youth, as 2-D stares at the bin at the other end of the room.

"The bins over there Muds." 2-D says pointing. Murdoc turns his head just a little, and glances at it, sitting by the kitchen door, leading out to the balcony. Bored, he then turns his head back to face the younger man. Druming his fingers on his cheeks, then clicking his tongue. Trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Oh right. So it is." he says and yawns. The old man stretches out his arms across the table and cracks his tired back. He vaguely watches the keyboardist, but seems too busy with his own thoughts.

2-D goes to the fridge and after a quick search, pulls a bottle of cola from it, then walks to the sink. He opens a cupboard and grabs a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Muds, still sitting, but now with his elbows on the table and chin in his palms, watches him with vague interest. The young man pours a drink for himself and one for Muds, then sits down at the table opposite the old man. He slides the drink towards him and watches, as it seems Muds has not even noticed. At the last second, as it looks as though the glass will go off the edge of the table and onto the floor, Muds reaches down and catches it. 2-D breathes a sigh of relief. Muds looks at the liquid in the glass and swirls it. He looks over the table at the youth and slits his eyes. He knows 2-D is after something, given the young man just poured him a drink, without asking. Mind you, he always does want one, but this was beside the point, Murdoc catches himself thinking and takes a swig from the glass. 2-D lets out a deep sigh, Muds rolls his eyes. 'Here we go.' he thinks and snarls.

"Oh what now?" 2-D looks over at Muds and for just a fraction of a second. He isn't too sure he wants to ask his question now. It seemed like a good question, and he was sure it was an important thing to know the answer to at the time. But now he wasn't so sure. 'For some reason,' he thinks, 'every time I open my mouth, Murdoc threatens to shove sumfink in it.' He studies the rim of the glass, squinting and trying to think of the best way to ask.

"Nufink Muds...I jus'..." he hesitates, trying to decide if it is the right moment to, 'or, maybe later would be better, when he's not so busy, or maybe when he's tired.' The keyboardist continues to think.

"Just what?!" snaps Murdoc, jolting 2-D out of his thoughts. 2-D looks around and then back again at the angry bassist. 'Oops. Must'a zoned out again.' he thinks and smiles at the old man, hoping to sooth him. It fails. Muds is now gritting his teeth and fuming, a slow hiss escaping through his razor sharp teeth. 2-D swallows hard and takes the plunge. He visualizes himself, plummeting off the edge of a cliff, into utter darkness. The hair on the back of the young mans neck, rises as his head is slowly filled with impending thoughts of doom.

"Well. I woz jus' wonderin'... Why are we heya?" he finally asks and just slightly leans back in his chair, ready to run. The question strikes Muds rather awkwardly and the bassist drops his hands to the table and his mouth drops open in shock. He snaps it shut, his teeth coming together in a sharp click. He slowly blinks at the youth, then searches the room with his eyes, looking for hidden cameras.

"Ahhh yeaaaah." the bassist drawls and folds his hands over his notebook. He starts flicking at the corner of the book with his thumbnail, as a sly smile starts playing at the corners of his mouth. "Weeeell... it's simple really D. Ya see, somewhere back there." he says tilting his head sharply back over his left shoulder. "Your Mummy and Daddy took all their clothes off. And then your Mum laid down, ya Dad leaped on her and they did the rumpy, pumpy dance." he finishes by sliding his chair back from the table, with a loud scraping sound, and holding his hands out like he has hold of an invisible womans hips. Then moving provocatively in an exaggerated manner, while vocalising bad 70's porn music. 2-D tilts his head to one side a moment, then shakes it.

"No Muds. That's not..." he pauses, as the image plays about in his head, invading the very core of his brain. He can now quite plainly visualize the faces of his parents, in place of the faces of every porn star he's watched, in every blue movie he's ever seen, in his whole young adult life. Flashing, grinding and moving about in his mind. Sweaty bodies, coming together in one, hot, steamy act of sexual ecstasy, after another. The sounds of moans and groans, growing and filling every inch of his young mind. His stomach tightens and he starts to feel uncomfortably hot, as arms and legs and bodies slide together in strange erotic dances, deep in his brain, each one of them with either his Mum or Dads face on. 2-D becomes quite pale. Muds has returned to his former position. Elbows on the table, chin in his palms. He watches the youth squirming in his seat across the table, with a devilish grin. The old man is mentally counting down. "Aw eww. Ah er, tha's not... aw no, Muds!" 2-D suddenly slams his chair back and covering his mouth with his hand, races from the room. Murdoc smiles and picks up his glass.

"Well, that was more fun than I expected it to be. Haw, haw, haw." and throws the liquid down his throat, then stands up and walks to the end of the table where 2-D had been sitting and picks up his glass and pours that down his throat as well, then shudders. "Ack! Watered down whiskey, how obscene." he grimaces and slams the glass down. Then chuckling quietly to himself, he walks out on to the balcony for some piece and quiet.


End file.
